The Rain
by 8belles
Summary: A quick 1 shot between our favs when an unexpected thunderstorm pops up.


The Rain

The cabin was quiet for a change as Ichabod stared into the fire crackling in the hearth. Abbey sat contentedly in the armchair opposite him also mesmerized by the flames, soothing warmth and calm.

Suddenly, a flash of lightening lit the windows and a thunderous crash made both of them jump in their seats. Ichabod looked around the cabin quickly, and then at Abbey, who was catching her breath, hand over her heart. "Are you well, Miss Mills?" he inquired politely, trying not to show his own discomfort from the lightening strike.

"Yeah. Just brings back some old childhood… fears." Abby replied uneasily trying to get comfortable again. Ichabod regarded her kindly for a moment and then turned back to the fire. There was a tentative pitter-patter of rain on the roof at first, followed by a steadier staccato of drops and finally the deluge descended upon the cabin roof. It sounded for the moment like distant war drums pounding away on the shingles and reminded Abbey of those new age music CD's. Another electrical display from the heavens was the flourish to the rhythm of the rain but it did not frighten them again.

Gazing at Ichabod, Abbey noticed his eyes were closed as if in meditation, his fingers steepled above his chest as he sat in the deep armchair. His profile was relaxed, noble and almost serene. She burned with curiosity to know what he was contemplating. He must have felt her gazing upon him because he opened his eyes, but did not turn his head and quietly asked above the din of the rain, "Is something troubling you, Miss Mills?"

Abbey suddenly felt like she was intruding upon something that was not hers to know but she cleared her throat and answered with a confidence she did not truly feel, "You looked so at peace. I was wondering what you were thinking about."

He swiveled his head toward her and in the dancing firelight looked like a hawk with his sharp blue eyes, "I have grown to understand that people of this time like to share everything with every one. I believe you call it 'lack of filter'. I however possess a remarkable one that was the discretion cultivated within me at an early age." Returning his gaze to the fire, he closed his eyes again.

Abbey felt stung by his words, although she knew it was just the priggish, stubborn man that he was raised to be so long ago. She fell quiet for a moment, listening to the unfortunate raindrops that managed their way down the chimney sizzling in the flames like souls in Hell. It reminded her of some of the brimstone sermons she'd hear at church. They both fell into quietness as the sky continued its show above them.

"When I was five, and Jenny was three, my folks were still together." Abbey volunteered, not looking at Ichabod but knowing he was listening. "There was a storm one night that just about turned our house upside down." She smirked dryly to herself, "It was a rare tornado for New York and one of those storms where one house wasn't touched but the one next door was destroyed." Abbey squinted into the fire with the memory, "Made you really question life, God and why we were so lucky when others were not."

She paused for a moment when Ichabod filled the silence, "And did you arrive at any satisfactory conclusions to your questions?"

A derisive snort escaped her lips, "Of course not. But ever since then, lightening has given me the willies."

"Willies?" Ichabod replied, eyes still closed facing the fire.

"It spooks me." Abbey replied with a slightly frustrated sigh. Sometimes she wondered when Ichabod would start picking up on context clues.

The silence returned as the thunder became more distant, but the rain continued more softly.

After what felt like an eternity, Abbey was contemplating going home for the evening. Ichabod spoke, "I was recalling an evening with Katrina, when there was an unexpected storm." Ichabod turned and looked at Abbey. The darkness pulled the light from his eyes when he spoke of her and Abbey's heart ached for his loss, "I had returned from a mission of General Washington's, successfully, but with a minor injury. Katrina was there in the infirmary and tended my wounds." Ichabod looked again towards the fire, his voice lowering, "And as she did so we did not talk greatly, but the storm blew in, much like this one did, unexpectedly. Now knowing what I do about my wife, I certainly believe she was utilizing her powers and it manifested as the storm."

Ichabod paused and adjusted himself in the chair as if the very words he spoke were uncomfortable to him, "We learned the next morning that a troop of redcoats were planning an assault on our position but the rain had made the roads too muddy to traverse. In hindsight, that storm saved all our lives." He inhaled, "And so, every time I hear the lightening and rain, I think of her. My beloved."

Abbey looked at Ichabod pragmatically, still wondering how he bore the burden of his being a man out of time yet being forced to move forward here in her era. "And you never got an answer if it was her or not." She sympathized.

A regretful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, "Much like you Ms. Mills. No answers were provided. Only the rain."


End file.
